Bella Triumphans
by The Black Doll
Summary: Sequel to 'Bella la Belle'.  Edward has an exciting day, in which he has sex with Bella, meets the President of France, has sex with Bella, plots to destroy the Volturi, has sex with Bella and gets married.  But who does he marry?  Read to find out.


Bella Triumphans

Edward Cullen was aware that, as a vampire, he was unable to sleep, but, for the first time in his extended existence, he was regretting that now. His – girlfriend, lover, whatever – Bella Swan, or Bella la Belle as she appeared to prefer to be called nowadays, had clearly been very pleased to be reunited with him, and had been expressing that pleasure, rather forcefully. Edward, as a novice in these affairs, was not certain what was considered normal when it came to physical affection, but he felt, almost instinctively, that seventeen times in one night was excessive by any standards. And here she came again, looking as fresh and dewy as if she did this all the time (poor Edward was rather naïve, so it didn't occur to him that perhaps she did) and there was nothing out of the ordinary in spending hours locked in violent physical activity, only to waltz off because she needed to 'Freshen my gullet, my darling; why I feel quite bloodless' and then start singing, ever so slightly flat, a long, involved song in foreign about an 'Alouette', whatever one of them was. And of course, for a woman who made a living by displaying herself in public in a number of strenuous physical poses, there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about leaping enlivened and refreshed from a bed in which she had just been making love for eight hours, but then Edward was not a thoughtful or a well-educated man (after all, he hadn't managed to progress beyond high school in nearly one hundred years, so while he knew everything there was to know about the final year curriculum at Forks High, his acquaintance with the wider world of knowledge was somewhat limited), or well schooled in taking the other person's point of view, so he thought it was unreasonable of her. And so, when she came into sight, swaying her hips in that disquieting way of hers, and trilled,

'Ready for some more sweet, sweet love?' he just groaned. Bella pouted and said, 'But I thought you might like to take me in my corset. Look, it's a very nice corset,' she added hopefully, wriggling a bit, to show him just how nice it was, but all he did was groan again. She continued with gradually diminishing enthusiasm: 'I thought I could dance about a bit, strike some statuesque poses, and then you, enflamed with lust by my performance, could leap from the couch, pin me against the door and passionately take me from behind. No? You don't want to passionately take me from behind? Oh dear, what can be wrong? Everyone else is over the moon when I suggest it - I mean, as something that we might do if I loved them, that is, not as something we'd do as a matter of course. Oh Edward,' she came over to the couch and leaned over Edward solicitously, which might have been all right, had not her idea of solicitous leaning involved establishing a face-cleavage interface, 'What's wrong, my darling?'

'Mmmm. Mm. Mm. Mmmmmm.'

'I'm sorry, my darling, you'll have to speak more clearly.' She looked down and blushed, 'Oh, silly me, I always forget. There,' she moved so the Edward had once again the ability to speak and, more importantly, for though he was immortal, going without air for any length of time was not his favourite experience, breathe. She continued to look down on him dotingly and said, 'But then, after all, you've always liked my boobs, haven't you? I said,' she repeated in a louder voice, when he did not respond with immediate hymns of praise and thanksgiving, 'You've always liked my boobs, haven't you?' the last two words being filled with a threat that was so far from being implicit that even Edward spotted it, and immediately set about flailing to respond in a way that would prevent Bella from doing something terrible, like doing _that_ to him again.

'Yes, Bella, they're very . . . nice,' Bella looked dissatisfied. 'Nice and round? Soft? Big?' Bella looked faintly disgusted and said,

'You're talking about boobs that have been described by the president of the Academie, no less, as "dewy hills of delight, their enticing swelling leading one on to their darkest declivities, where pleasure such as no man has before encompassed can be found." My,' she looked reflective, 'Did I give him one in return for that,' which puzzled Edward no end, for as far as he could see, she still had both of the organs in question, so how she could have given one away he didn't understand. But before he had a chance to institute enquiries, she continued, 'And you call them nice, round, soft and big. Well,' she sighed, 'It's a good job I don't want you for your mind. But anyway, wonderful though my boobs are, we weren't talking about them. What's wrong?' Edward marshalled his mental resources. He may not have been bright, but he had a certain low cunning, which told him that if he were to say that spending the night with Bella had made him wish he were mortal so he could die here and now, she might take it the wrong way, i.e. as a compliment, and do it to him again, or she might take it the right way and try to help him achieve his wish by doing something inconvenient like staking him, cutting his head off and cramming fresh garlic down his neck. So after a certain amount of what passed, in him, for thought, he said,

'I just feel terribly weak.' Bella was immediately solicitous.

'Oh, you poor thing, of course, it must be hours since you've had any nourishment. Here,' she bustled off, there were sounds of glassware and liquids pouring, then she returned, carrying a large goblet filled with a bright red, venous fluid, 'Have some blood. Fresh from the Paris central blood-bank. Type A positive, such a pick-me-up, I always find.' She handed the goblet to Edward, who took it gingerly and, almost against his better judgement, started to sip. Immediately energy began to flow through him. He had never felt like this with animal blood; what a waste of a hundred years, he thought: when he could have been making love to beautiful maidens seventeen times a night with gay abandon, instead he wasted the time being ethical. As he put the empty goblet down, he felt up to anything, which was just as well, for Bella smiled demurely at him and said,

'And now,' she gradually turned so she was facing away from him, 'Passionately take me from behind, but be quick because we have to go and see a man about something.'

But even the most passionate love-making (from behind) must come to an end, especially when the active partner has very little idea what it is he's meant to be doing, so it wasn't long before Bella was saying,

'Well I suppose it was all right, really. While it lasted. And you've got hundreds of years to get better.' She sighed. 'Right, I'm off to get dressed, and I advise you to do likewise. We don't want to go visit our gentleman in the nude, do we? Well, I suppose you could, but he prefers girls and he might see it as an affront to his manhood if you turned up like that.' She immediately vanished into another part of her dressing room, where Edward soon heard her talking in French (he assumed) to her maid (he assumed), leaving him to try to decode her most recent statement. Like most of the sayings of the new Bella, Edward found that on outward appearance it seemed to be expressed using English words and syntax, but that closer investigation rendered its meaning wholly opaque. As he put on his clothes, Edward pondered what an affront to one's manhood might be, and why it mattered that the mystery gentleman preferred girls, and what if anything this had to do with his clothes, or lack of them. And he was still fruitlessly pondering when Bella returned, looking very stylish, chic and, Edward thought, surprisingly modestly dressed, given that she was a woman who took her clothes off in public for a living.

'You're looking very modestly dressed,' he said. Bella raised one eyebrow and said,

'You'll see,' with which enigmatic utterance Edward was forced to suffice, for immediately Bella said, 'But, oh Edward, your clothes. They're dreadful. You look like, like, an American student.'

'But I am an American student.'

'That's beside the point. Here we are about to visit one of the most important people in the Republic, and please don't interrupt me with asinine questions when I'm in the middle of talking about something, my dear, and you look like something the cat would turn up its nose at.'

'But you aways used to say how handsome I was . . .'

'Yes, and you still are, my dear, but that was before I'd discovered how important it is to dress properly. Here, let me show you. Clarice!' The maid appeared:

'Oui mademoiselle?'

'Clarice dear, could you, in English, because Mr Cullen is pig ignorant, I'm afraid, tell him what you think of the way he's dressed?'

'Well, mademoiselle, you know as how I prefer girls, but even if I was, how do you put it? Ah yes, straight, I wouldn't let anything that scruffy inside me,' and then tears started to drip from her eyes.

'You see?' said Bella, poking at Edward with a finger, 'You've traumatised the poor girl. You just can't go out like that. Especially to meet . . . Oh dear,' she squeezed the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb. 'And now I've got to try to cheer up Clarice, else she'll still be crying this evening.' She turned to the maid and said, 'Clarice, ma cherie, va ici.' The maid blundered towards her and Bella took her in her arms and started to kiss her, a good deal too passionately, Edward felt, given she was meant to be in love with him.

'Here,' he said, 'What are you doing with her?' Bella broke off from a particularly impassioned clinch and said, rather impatiently,

'Well, if you hadn't interrupted, I'd probably be getting ready to make love to her by now.'

'But I thought you loved me?'

'Yes I do, dear, in a way, but who but Clarice here,' she squeezed Clarice, who gave a contented moan, 'can keep me company when I'm feeling lonely and make me happy when I'm feeling blue, and make me soar with ecstasy of a kind you wouldn't be able to imagine? I'm terribly sorry, my dear,' she said, as a look of hurt spread across his face, 'But you're filed strictly under "lust". Which you ought to be really pleased about. All the straight men in Paris would be delighted to be my toy-boy, but not you, not Edward Cullen. You expect me to love you too. Well, it ain't gonna happen, because I love – goodness, look at the time. Clarice. Clarice?' she snapped her fingers under the unresponsive maid's nose. 'Oh dear, obviously I over-did it again. Nothing for it but to . . .' she did something down below that Edward couldn't identify and Clarice jumped.

'Mademoiselle! Je suis désolé, je n'avais pas l'intention de . . .'

'Ne t'inquiétes pas, Clarice, je t'aimerai toujours. Maintenant, va préparer la voiture.' As the maid tripped off, looking surprisingly happy for one who, Edward assumed, had just been rebuked with the fullest possible force of the French language, Bella turned to him and said, 'And never let anyone say a good cuddle isn't good for the brain. I've worked out what to do about you. We'll just have to try to pass you off as a genius of some sort. We can use that to explain your incoherence as well.'

'I'm not incoherent.'

'Oh yes? Right, imagine this, you're in a bar, yes Edward, I know you don't drink, but this is France, we don't do soda fountains, and in this bar is a very rich and attractive society matron who offers you ten thousand Euros a week to become her lover. What do you do?'

'I, I, I, er, I make my excuses.' Bella shook her head and sighed again.

'You see. Incoherent. What you should have done was counter-offer twenty. Unless she's really beautiful, in which case you drag her off to the ladies' to show her what you're made of. It's just as well you've got me to look after you, you'd be dead meat out there.' She pulled on her gloves and said, 'So, shall we go?', crooking an arm and extending it as if she expected something to happen. There was a pause and she said, 'Well?'

'Well what?' said Edward. Bella sighed again.

'Has nobody, in one hundred and eight years, ever taught you the basics of good manners?'

'Er, wash your hands before you eat?'

'No, my dear, it's about what gentlemen do with ladies, and no I don't mean fucking them, though given your performance it's clear nobody ever told you about that either, I mean in public? Do I detect from that deer-in-headlights look that you have no idea what I'm talking about? Ayayayayay.' She did the thing with her thumb and fore-finger on her brow again. 'Look, it's very simple, I extend my arm like this,' she crooked an arm, 'And then you put your arm through it and we walk out together, like any decent, civilised couple.'

'But I'm taller than you.'

'Well, crouch a bit. Look I don't care how you do it, but we are going to go out looking like a properly-matched couple, not like a lady taking a turn with a tramp. Ready?' There was a pause followed by a crash, followed by another pause. Then, 'Edward?'

'Er, yes?'

'Why am I lying on the floor with you on top of me, without even the suggestion that you might be about to fuck me to make up for the discomfort?'

'I tripped.'

'You tripped. You bloody tripped. Why you . . .' she shouted, 'Clarice!' There was a sound of steps, then,

'Oui Mademoiselle? Oh! Etes-vous faire quelque chose de privé?'

'Non! Prenez cet idiot sur moi, puis me relever.' Clarice did her best, given that she seemed willing to touch Edward only via the agency of some long wooden tongs, and he was eventually off. He offered to help lift Bella, but Clarice waved the tongs at him and hissed,

'Va-t-en, animal!' which he didn't understand, but sounded quite menacing, so he kept his distance. No tongs were needed for Bella, and as she was lifted to her feet, she fell, weeping into Clarice's arms and said,

'Oh Clarice, ma chérie, pourquoi je ne peux pas t'épouser à la place?'

'C'est la loi, mademoiselle. Mais un jour.'

'Un jour.' They kissed. Unnecessarily, Edward felt. Surely if Bella were to kiss anyone to comfort herself it should be him. But Bella seemed to have learned strange, un-American ways in her stay in France, at least judging from her strange ravings before, which he put down to nerves, not being sufficiently introspective or self-aware to even be able to conceive that Bella might prefer _a woman_ to him, one of the lords of creation. Having kissed Clarice seven or eight times, Bella pulled herself together, released her grip on her maid and said, 'Right Edward, we are going out to the car now, or we will be very late for our appointment. So no falling over, no sudden outbreaks of imbecility, you just follow me and then get in the car next to me, okay?'

'Er, yes, okay.'

'Oh what have I Iet my hormones talk me into?' she asked in what Edward hoped was a piece of rhetoric, because he wasn't sure what it meant, let alone how to answer it. She swept out of the door, followed by Edward, shambling as he went. It was nice of Clarice to want to speed him on his way, but he still felt that kicking him in the behind was not the best way of doing it.

With Bella and Edward finally on board, the big car drove off, given its envoi by Clarice blowing a kiss, Edward guessed probably not to him. They made their way through the streets of Paris, Edward knew not where, as he had made little effort during his time here to learn his way around, for what could the city of light teach him that Forks could not? Eventually they moved from a district dominated by theatres to a shopping area, and then a district filled with large buildings of an administrative cast. At least they looked like the Forks branch of the DMV, though, Edward would have thought had he known the word, somewhat more Baroque. Edward would have asked Bella where they were, but it was clear, even to him, that she was not in the mood for talk. She appeared to be trying out a conversation under her breath, not to mention to be a bit nervous, which came as a shock to Edward, as while the old Bella had been frightened of many things - the dark, spiders, bats, basset hounds – the new Bella didn't seem to sort of woman to harbour fear of anything. So what could it be that so affected her? Edward resigned himself to having to wait to find out, when he wasn't worrying about what on Earth someone who scared Bella mark two would do to him.

Drawing to in front of one of the largest buildings, the car stopped and the doors were instantly opened by uniformed attendants, one of whom said,

'Good afternoon, Miss Bella. His Excellency is ready for you, so if you and – who is your companion, may I ask?'

'Oh,' said Bella, flashing a brilliant smile as she was handed out of the car, 'He's Professor Cullen, a learned student of we, ahem, special people, from the United States. But be careful, he's very brilliant, but very unworldly, so you shouldn't pay too much attention to what he says . . .'

'Bella, I'm stuck. How did you get out with that long skirt on? Help.' Bella rolled her eyes.

'You see?' she said. She walked round to where the other attendant appeared to be trying to pull Edward out of the car. Having inspected the situation for a moment, she raised a hand, said 'Excuse me,' and, once the attendant had retreated to a safe distance, as one expecting an explosion, her hand shot out, grasped Edward by the crotch, twisted and yanked. A second later, Edward was lying on the floor, gasping and saying,

'But Bella, I thought you loved me?'

'No I don't love you, I just like having sex with you. There is a difference, you know.' She turned to the attendants, who seemed divided between sympathetic pain and envy. 'Now , do you think you could brush him down and try to get us in to meet his Excellency without further mishap? Thanks so much. You can't imagine how grateful I'll be.' With which entirely unambigious (except to Edward) promise she left the strangely electrified attendants to hustle Edward indoors while she stalked into the Palace.

Once inside, they were led to a large chamber, at the centre of which were three, to call them arm-chairs would be an insult, which is probably why that's what Edward thought they were, each positioned near a small occasional table. The attendants left, saying,

'His Excellency will be with you in a moment.' Edward could have taken that moment to admire the amazing workmanship of the room's decorations, but instead he chose to complain.

'Bella, what did you mean when you – wough!' Bella had just, after a quick look round, selected a chair to sit down in, and her demure costume had abruptly transformed itself. What had been a long, tight skirt suddenly split up the front, revealing what looked like several miles of leg, while the modestly buttoned jacket fell open to reveal more bosom than Edward would have thought any woman could possess, had he not had a front-row view of it for most of last night. Bella looked at Edward and said,

'You said? What? What's wrong? I told you, he likes girls. And if showing off my assets puts him in a good mood, why shouldn't I take advantage? And Clarice doesn't object, so what right do you have to?'

'Just what is it between you and her?'

'Oh, my darling, it's so complicated, and you're too naïve to understand. I mean, you do know, don't you, that girls can have sex with other girls?'

'Of course they can't. Neither of them has a . . .' Bella shook her head and put a hand to her brow.

'Oh dear, oh dear, where do I begin? Well, listen Edward, what happens is that sometimes one woman loves another very much, and they want to . . .' but Bella's explanation, and with it Edward's tenuous understanding, were broken off when a door opened and a voice said,

'Mademoiselle, Monsieur, the President of the Republic.'

Bella lay back in her chair, revealing more than ever, if that was possible, and doing her best to look languorous, or at least as languorous as she could while savagely gesturing to Edward that he should stand up. Which he did, eventually, leaving her free to smile dazzlingly at the short man who had just entered, extending a hand towards him. He took it and kissed it, far too intimately for Edward's taste, and then had a good look at the woman behind the hand, much too intimately for Edward's taste, before saying,

'Mademoiselle Bella, I am, as always, enchanted to meet with you, surely the most beautiful of my People. But who,' he gestured with the hand that wasn't still holding Bella's, 'Is this?' Bella simpered, which came as a considerable surprise to Edward, as he didn't think she'd know how, and said,

'Oh Mister President, you are too kind. This is Professor Cullen, a great expert on the affairs of the un-dead, who has terrible news to impart.' The President looked at Edward, who was smiling weakly in an attempt to look learned, and said,

'But how can this be? He looks seventeen?'

'Well,' said Bella, wriggling a little, as a result of which the President's gaze became once again fixated on her bosom, 'After all, I'm only eighteen.'

'Yes, but Mademoiselle, you are beyond your years in wisdom, beauty and chic, a true adornment to the French nation, while this, this,' he waved the free hand at Edward, 'Looks like an American school-boy.'

'And indeed he was a school-boy when he was changed, but that was over a hundred years ago, and he has gained much in wisdom since then, haven't you Edward?' Edward, who had been joining the President in staring at Bella's bosom, jumped and said,

'Oh, yes, er, sure.'

'And you see, Mister President, it is one of his many eccentricities that he likes to appear in the style of his true, as opposed to his physical age. And who can blame him? Why, do you think that in forty years time I should make myself up to look like a sixty year-old?'

'Heavens no, that would be blasphemy!'

'So, I have put my American past behind me, and embraced true Gallic chic, whereas Professor Cullen, who is, as I have said, a strange man, finds comfort in appearing what he was, rather than what he is. For you are strange, aren't you Edward, my dear?' Edward, torn again from contemplation of the bosom, said,

'What, oh, yes.' And then, in an attempt to say something germane to the issue he said, 'This morning I passionately took her from behind.' This got the President's attention all right, and who knows where things might have gone had not Bella said,

'And he did it very badly too. You see, Mister President, how strange he is: given an opportunity most men would kill for, he managed to fuck up.' The President looked thoughtful and said,

'I see. That is very strange behaviour indeed. But it reminds me, how is Mademoiselle Clarice?'

'Oh as well as ever. As always, she joins me in repeating our appeal to you.'

'Well, Mademoiselle, I might have some good news for you. But first, let us sit down, instead of standing so formally, and then you can tell me of this serious news of yours.' The President, to Edward's relief, released Bella's hand, only to clap. When a servant opened the door, he said, 'One, no, two, glasses of fresh blood for my guests.' Then he sat down in the chair nearest Bella (who covertly gestured to Edward to sit) and promptly re-raised Edward's blood-pressure by putting his hand on her knee. The blood arrived shortly, proffered on silver platters. Bella sipped hers and said, happily,

'Oh, Sir, you remembered, my favourite type.'

'For you, Mademoiselle Bella, always the best. So, what is this news?'

'Well,' said Bella, suddenly becoming serious, and pushing herself back so she was sitting up, instead of lying in her chair (and, of course, the fact that as a result she showed even more of her bosom was neither here nor there). 'Professor Cullen has brought to my attention that there is a secret cabal of powerful vampires, who have set themselves up as, essentially the rulers of vampire-kind. They exist entirely outside of any state, and see themselves as dispensers of law and justice.'

'So, you are saying,' said the President, who was so moved that he had removed his hand from Bella's knee, and was resting his face on an arch formed by his fingers, 'That somewhere in the EU there is a group that sees itself as a shadow government? As having authority over EU citizens? This cannot be acceptable. Where, may I ask, are they based?'

'Professor Cullen is the authority on this. Edward? I'm sorry, your Excellency, he seems to have gone into a trance. Edward, do you want me to take one of my hat-pins and put it where you least expect it?' which dire threat was enough to break through the dark fug of confusion that had been filling him ever since he had met the new Bella, and make him jump and say,

'Oh, yes, er, what?'

'The Volturi, Edward. Where are they based?'

'Er, Volterra. Yes, that's it, Volterra.'

'Well thank God it is not in France,' said the President, 'But still we must do something. We cannot allow EU citizens, even if they are vampires, to be oppressed like this.'

'Yes, Mister President,' said Bella, 'But I'm afraid there's more.'

'More? What?'

'Oh indeed. Professor Cullen, could you tell the President what the Volturi sent you to Paris to do?'

'Well,' started Edward, nervous at having both of them staring at him, 'They told me to come here and get rid of Bella . . .'

'By which they meant?'

'To kill me,' said Bella dolefully, before bursting into tears.

'Oh, my poor child,' said the President. 'Here,' he scooped her up out of her chair and held her, making Edward wish that he were President of France and could get away with embracing beautiful young women without getting his face slapped or an exclusion order served against him, his jealously increasing when Bella started to nuzzle up to the President and deliver a series of small kisses. However, the President was made of stronger stuff, clearly a man accustomed to being kissed by beautiful women on a daily basis, for he continued as nothing momentous were happening, 'These monsters cannot harm you here. I will give you a National Guard escort. And I will not have these terrorists, for that is what they are, plotting to kill French citizens. In fact – excuse me my dear, if you are strong enough, I need to go into another room to make some phone calls, but never fear, I will be back soon enough.' He released Bella, who fell to the floor in a distraught heap, and made for the door, saying, just before he left, 'I leave her in your charge Professor Cullen.' Then he was gone.

Edward looked down at Bella, a crumpled epitome of misery, and wondered what he was meant to do about her.

'Er, Bella, are you all right?'

'As all right as any girl can be when her life is under threat.'

'So what do we do now?'

'Well, I'm guessing he'll be calling allies to arrange a military strike on Volterra. So he'll probably be a few minutes.' She looked up. 'I could give you a blow-job if you like. How does that sound?'

'I don't know. What's a blow job?' Bella glared at him.

'Oh Edward, sometimes I do wonder whether you're innocent or just stupid. Here, let me show you.'

And so it was that when, a few minutes later, the President returned to the room, he found Edward lying on the floor in a dead faint and Bella standing over him, looking faintly guilty.

'What has happened here?' he said.

'Well,' said Bella, I was expressing my gratitude to Professor Cullen for having brought this to my attention, and I may have accidentally started sucking his cock, and, well, this happened. Do you think he's dead?'

'But, my child, he is a vampire. How can he be dead?'

'I suppose so, but he looks so still.'

'I am sure he will recover. But anyway Bella, as we are now, to all intents and purposes, alone perhaps we . . .'

'Oh, your Excellency, I am sorry. All this worry about people wanting to kill me made me completely forget.'

'No worry, my child. We are together, you are beautiful as always, and Madame la Presidente is opening a school for deaf and blind children at the opposite end of Paris. It is the perfect time.'

'Well, in that case, Sir, how do you want me?'

So, when Edward came to, he first heard giggles, and then saw Bella sitting on the President's lap with her arms around his neck in a strangely intimate way. It was almost as if they were lovers, but that was nonsense. Bella loved only him, whatever she may say when in one of her moods. But if so, why was Bella repeatedly kissing the President, and why did he have his hand right between her – what would anyone want to be doing with their hand there? However, he knew one thing: another man was kissing and fondling his girlfriend, and that was wrong. Of course it didn't occur to him that his provincial sense of morality, though perfectly adequate for the small world of Forks, no longer applied in a sophisticated metropolis. That would be relativism, and relativism was bad. His Philosophy for Beginners teacher had told him so no fewer than ninety-one times. So, being brave but stupid, and seeing the need to speak out in the cause of good, he spoke out:

'Here, you, President or whoever you are: hands off my girlfriend.' At the sound of his voice, Bella stopped giggling and seemed to deflate, while the President gave him a haughty look and said,

'I am afraid, Professor Cullen, that you are making a basic mistake. It may be true in the United States that a woman is one man's girlfriend. That is what one would expect of so unsophisticated a society. But here we are more, advanced. Mademoiselle Bella is everyone's girlfriend, and takes whom she chooses. And I am privileged to say that she has chosen me, amongst others. So what if she and I are lovers? From what you say, clearly you are her lover too, in some sense of the term. We all know that we mean less than nothing to her, for her heart belongs to . . .'

'Indeed, your Excellency,' said Bella hurriedly, 'But perhaps you could tell us what it is you plan against these Volturi who threaten my very life,' she sniffed and let drop a convincing imitation of a tear.

'Oh, my dear, let me comfort you,' cried the President.

'No!' said Edward, scrambling up from the floor, 'That's my job.' And there might have been a nasty set-to had not Bella stood up and, with admirable gravitas, said,

'Now boys, there's no need to squabble, there's plenty of me to go round. Here, you,' to the President, 'Have this boob, and you, Edward, have this one.' She reached out and planted Edward's hand on firm, rounded flesh, which hadn't been what he was expecting to happen when the subject of comforting her had come up, but it was, as experiences go, strangely compelling, so he decided not to complain. Yet. 'So, Mister President,' she continued, standing there like an over-decorated Christmas-tree, 'What are you going to do?'

'Just let me have one more squeeze . . .'

'If you don't stop delaying I'll button-up right up to my neck, and then you'll be sorry. Get on with it. And Edward, I can tell what you're up to. Just remember, I can reach your gonads from here: go one inch further down my cleavage and you're a eunuch.'

'Ah, Mademoiselle Bella, you are cruel,' said the President, 'But sometimes business must come before pleasure. Very well. I have spoken to my colleagues in Germany and England, and we have agreed that we cannot allow this group to continue to spread terror and threaten the lives of our citizens. We have committed ourselves to extirpating them, so tomorrow at dawn a joint force of the three nations will strike Volterra, capture their leaders and shut down this little operation for good.'

'Uh, what about Italy?' said Bella, 'Shouldn't they be invoved?' The President laughed.

'Italy? Ha. My head of intelligence tells me that these Volturi, who we had thought a harmless sect of, what do you call them? Ah yes, live role-players, have been paying off the Italian state for years. The last thing we want to do is to involve the Italians.'

'Okay,' said Bella, 'So tomorrow morning you shut down the Volturi. What are you going to do with the leaders?'

'I really don't know. We had some vague ideas about setting up an international court, but . . .'

'I know what to do with them. Give them to me.'

'Are you sure? We could build a special prison and . . .'

'What I will do to them will be worse than any prison,' said Bella in a frighteningly cold voice.

'Oh.' The President looked as nervous as any man can while he is fondling a woman's breast. 'You're not going to torture them, are you? Or do anything that violates their human rights? After the fuss we've made about the US, there'd be hell to pay if anyone found out that we were doing it too.'

'But, my dear sir, they don't have any human rights. They aren't human.'

'Oh yes, of course. You are so beautiful, and vibrant and sensual that I keep forgetting that you aren't actually human.'

'Oh thank you, that is so kind of you, Mister President. For that I shall kiss you, oh shut up Edward.' And she did, with great abandon. As they parted, panting, the President added,

'And one more thing. I decided that with all this strain you needed something to cheer you up. So I have spoken to the minister of the interior, and we have decided to accede to your and Mademoiselle Clarice's request.' Bella looked thunderstruck.

'You mean you are . . . we can . . .'

'Precisely, Mademoiselle. Just as soon as you desire.'

'Oh you wonderful man, let me kiss – no, this needs more than a kiss. Edward! Go out and wait for me in the car. I'll be, oh, half an hour.'

'Why can't I stay here?'

'Well, you can stay and watch if you like, but given your absurd jealousy I do think you'd enjoy yourself more in the car. Now, Mister President,' she spoke in a much more seductive tone, placing her arms around the President's neck, 'How would you like me this time?'

Edward sat in the car for half an hour, imagining all kinds of lubricious goings-on between his girlfriend and that, that President person. And given the general inadequacy of Edward's imagination, coupled with his near total lack of experience of things lubricious, it is safe to say that he imagined not the half of it. The driver, his offer of 'a quick fag' having been rejected somewhat too forcefully by Edward, to the list of whose failings we can add inability to appreciate cultural variations in the use of language, leaned on the car, puffing away, thinking of who knew what: probably, Edward thought bitterly, the last time he had had sex with Bella, which was not strictly true, for the poor man suffered from a lasting but, he knew, hopeless, adoration of Mademoiselle Clarice. Suddenly, however, he stood to attention and threw his cigarette away, and seconds later the door entered and Bella climbed into the car next to Edward. She was flushed, but not unbecomingly so, and, as usual, was as perfectly dressed and made up, as if she had spent the past half hour discussing the world situation over tea and cake.

'Au théâtre, Jean-Phillipe'. The car started. 'So, how are you Edward?' Edward decided to sulk, so he just gave her a look. 'Oh Edward, there's no need to be like that. The President's just a guy I have sex with. He doesn't mean anything to me. Why, if there were an election tomorrow, I'd drop him like a stone, and start having sex with the new President – I find it useful to have them feeling grateful to me. As you saw, you can never tell when it'll come in handy. But, Edward, you're more than just a guy I have sex with. Well, you are a guy I have sex with, but a very special one.'

'You mean, you love me?' Bella sighed.

'No Edward, my dear, I don't love you, at least not in the way you mean, with romance and deep one-to-one relationships, and eternal commitment. But I want you to stay a part of my life. Now enough talk. Come here and let me fuck your brains out.'

'But you've only just had sex with the President.'

'And now I want to have sex with you, my darling. I've got a lot of loving to do if I'm going to make up for all those years of decent, boring abstinence back in Forks, when I let you lecture me on ethical vampirism instead of doing what I wanted to, and riding you into blissful oblivion. So what do you want to do? Have a conversation about the bad old days or fuck? I, personally vote for fucking, because if I don't get some where I choose how we do it in the next ten minutes or so I will probably have a breakdown, but if you want to talk, let's talk, so long as you take responsibility for explaining to Clarice why I'm a gibbering wreck. Ah, I thought that might change your mind. Right, get those trousers off.' And so the journey back to the theatre passed, to Edward's surprise, as he had yet to fully undo the conditioning enforced by ninety years of lectures on the evils of teen sex, exceptionally pleasantly.

On arriving back at the theatre, Bella emerged from the car, as was her annoying way, looking pristine, as if she had passed the journey in careful titivation, as opposed to making such energetic and vigorous use of Edward that he felt he would quite like a little lie down. But then, it seemed nothing could ever make her look less than perfect. Edward, on the other hand, looked distinctly dishevelled: he had his shirt on backwards and one of his shoes had vanished somewhere under one of the seats, so he lurched rather than walked. Seeing this, Clarice, who had come to greet them, set her mouth in a hard line, but before she could castigate Bella for her poor taste in men, Bella said,

'Oh Clarice, ma chérie, tu ne le crois pas. Monsieur le Président a dit oui. Que je puisse t'épouser.' Clarice put her hands to her cheeks and let out a shriek of pure joy before flinging herself at Bella and folding her in an impassioned embrace, which was clearly very much reciprocated. Soon they had moved on from mere kisses to tearing at one another's clothes, and Edward realised that he was back in that unfortunate scenario where he was about to watch his great love get off with someone else, which, in his considered opinion, having lived through it several times recently, sucked. Even if in this case, there was a natural anthropological interest in finding out exactly what it was that two women did together. He said,

'I'm going to find somewhere to have a rest.' Bella pulled herself away from Clarice and said,

'No Edward, don't go. We need you.'

'What,' he suddenly became hopeful, 'Do you want to do a threesome?' Clarice snorted and Bella sighed again.

'No Edward. Clarice and I are quite capable of making our own entertainment without your help, but thanks for the offer. What I need you for is our wedding.'

Wedding. That word short-circuited something in Edward's blood-deprived brain, made him completely ignore all of Bella's explanations as to how she didn't actually love him, and add two and two to get forty-seven.

'You mean we're getting married?' Bella and Clarice looked at one another and shrugged.

'Yes, sure, why not, if it'll make you happy,' said Bella. 'And we've got to do it this afternoon, before they change their minds, I mean, before I have one of my flighty patches and start shagging strange men. I do that, you know. Most embarrassing. So we need you and me, and Clarice of course, and we'll bring Clarice's sister along too, just to round it out to an even number. You'll find a suit and a carafe of blood in room . . .'

'Trois.'

'Merci, Clarice: three. So I suggest you go and get a good fill up then make yourself look as smart and handsome as you can. You never know,' she smouldered briefly at him, 'If you look really nice, I might give you a little taster before the wedding.'

Edward wandered off, hearing Bella say, as the door closed behind him,

'Well that's him dealt with. Oh Clarice, ma chérie, je t'aime tellement. Viens ici et laisse-moi te faire l'amour.' He didn't know what it meant, but judging by the sounds that followed, even he didn't have to work very hard to guess. So Edward, having found room three, sat down on the conveniently located couch, poured a glass of blood from the jug (so that was what a carafe was) and gave himself over to thought. And a hard, bitter thought it was. He had come all this way from the cheerfully dank surroundings of Forks to this terrible city where people never seemed to stop having a good time, looking for his love: a quiet, reserved, repressed, loving girl who had eyes only for him, and he had found a kind of monster: identifiably the same Bella, but outgoing, extraverted, uninhibited and apparently intent on coupling with anything that moved, even if she did show a quite flattering preference for him if given the choice. Well if that was the broadening of mind that travelling and seeing the world was meant to bring, Edward hoped it never happened to him. But then again, she did want to marry him, which was good, even if he would have preferred to have been consulted more about the planning of the event. After all, surely the ceremony should take place in Forks' little church, with the whole Cullen clan and Bella's father in attendance, not in some anonymous Parisian registrar's, with as witnesses a woman Edward was pretty sure didn't like him very much and another he hadn't even met, but who, judging by her sister, was probably one tough cookie? And surely the whole process of agreeing to marry should have been a bit more romantic than the bride-to-be announcing that if it didn't happen this afternoon she might have a funny turn and start giving herself away for free on street corners? And was that a real medical condition? Edward knew that as a vampire he was no-one to talk when it came to exotic afflictions, but an overwhelming urge to have sex with people you don't know sounded pretty strange, even to his vastly experienced ears.

But still, they were getting married, however strange the circumstances. Perhaps once she was Mrs Edward Cullen he could persuade her to drop all this 'Bella la Belle' act, and stop taking her clothes off in public, and come back to the wholesome tedium of Forks, where she belonged. Which meant, in any case, that he should be changing. He looked in the wardrobe and found what he failed to identify as a morning suit. He had just finished changing into it and was taking another sip of blood, when the door burst open, and Bella was with him.

'Oh Edward – oh Edward, you look wonderful. Go on, turn round so I can take a good look at you. My, I can see why I thought I loved you, before I knew better. So what do you think of my dress?' Edward was trying to assemble his thoughts on that subject. It was shimmering white and went down to the floor; off-the-shoulder, backless and so low-cut in front as to be courting prosecution for indecent exposure, while the vee between her breasts went down nearly to her navel. Goodness only knew what held it up; there are things men are not meant to know. Bella looked at Edward's gaze of open-mouthed astonishment and, rather smugly, said, 'I thought you'd like it. Now, we don't have much time, but a promise is a promise, so come here.'

'What?'

'I said come here, Edward. Oh really, do I have to do everything myself?' She surged towards him and locked her lips to his and so, as always seemed to be the case with Bella these days, one thing led to another.

When it was over, Edward was lying on the couch, red-faced and trying to get his breathing under control, while Bella, her expression more seraphic than ever, was adjusting the set of her dress in the mirror. Satisfied, she fiddled with her watch for a few seconds, then turned round and said,

'Oh Edward, you must try to do better. That was only a little tumble. It wasn't as if I was putting my all into it.'

'Feel . . . as . . . if . . . about . . . to . . . die.'

'Nonsense, Edward. You know as well as I do that you can't die. You just need some nourishment. Here.' She took the carafe and poured a fresh glass of blood, then handed it to Edward, watching fondly as he drank it down. 'There, do you feel better now?' Edward nodded. 'Right then,' she grabbed his hand and pulled, forcing him to stand up, 'Let's go and meet the girls.' She swung him into her arms, making him flinch, in case 'meet the girls' was some sort of code for doing that again, but instead she said, with unusual seriousness, 'I'm sorry, Edward, I really am, but this is the way it has to be.' Edward was confused,

'What is?'

'What what?'

'You said "this is the way it has to be". What is?'

'I didn't say that,' said Bella, batting her eyelashes, 'Don't be silly. You must be hallucinating. Probably not yet fully recovered. Now come and give your Bella a big kiss, and then we'll go and meet the bridesmaids.' Well, who could say no to that?

They went through the door to Bella's dressing-room and Edward saw Clarice and another woman, who he took to be Clarice's sister.

'Ah good, all ready,' said Bella. 'Now let me just do the introductions and then we'll be off. Sophie, this is Edward, your, well, you know, and Edward, this is Sophie, Clarice's sister.' Sophie held out her hand, which Edward took and held limply, not knowing what to do with it until Bella hissed, 'Kiss it, you fool, then say how pleased you are to meet her.' Always willing to oblige, even when he didn't know why, Edward did this, and was somewhat surprised when Sophie gave him a look whose import even he could guess, and said in a low, seductive voice, speaking in a British accent,

'And I am delighted to meet you, Edward. I know we'll be getting to know one another a lot better.' Edward released her hand puzzled: he hadn't realised he was that attractive to women. In fact, he hadn't thought he was attractive to women full stop. Oh well, perhaps things were looking up after all. Then he noticed something.

'Bella?'

'What?' said Bella, who had been arranging Clarice's hair. 'We are in a bit of a hurry, you know.'

'Yes, but why are they both dressed as brides? You know, in white, long floaty skirt, all that stuff.'

'Because they are brides. I mean, bridesmaids, and I thought you knew that the bridesmaids have to be ready to marry the groom should the bride be otherwise detained. So, just in case an angry mob stakes me, or a man turns up with a contract for me to go to Broadway, we thought we ought to be prepared. You see? Simple when you think about it. Now can we go?'

'Oh, er, yes, I think,' said Edward, trying to make sense of this.

'Good. How kind of you. Right, come on girls: we'll go in the back and Edward can sit in front. Let's go.'

After a short journey, during which the three women chattered in French and Edward gradually came to the conclusion that something was going on that he didn't understand, but he wasn't sure what, they arrived at an official-looking building and Bella broke off whatever it was she was saying that apparently required her to gaze deep into Clarice's eyes for it to have its full effect, and said, in English,

'Oh good, here we are at the Notary's. Everyone out! Including you, Jean-Phillipe, we need a witness.'

Well, first there was a very complex session in which Edward was asked, nay ordered, to sign seventeen separate pieces of paper, for some reason always together with Sophie, which seemed a bit odd, but when he asked Bella she just said,

'You know how complex French bureaucracy is, my dear, this is just the way we have to do these things.' Edward didn't actually know how complex French bureaucracy was, though he was beginning to get an idea, especially when the prune-faced old woman who was dealing with him pulled out an ink-pad and made it clear through dumb-show that she wanted to take his finger-prints. And just when he thought it was all over, the old woman produced a syringe and a little bottle and grabbed his arm. Her intent was obvious and now, finally pushed too far, Edward protested.

'Oh really, why do I need to give a blood sample?' Sophie, who was sitting next to him, trying to clean her inky fingers, sighed and said,

'I wish I knew, but it's the law, and if you want to get married you'll have to let her. Believe me, she may look old and frail, but she can out-wait you if she wants to. Now just think of what you're doing it for,' she kissed his cheek, which was surprising, if pleasant, 'And hope she doesn't think up anything else.' But the next thing she did was produce two bottles and give one each to Sophie and Edward. 'Oh, for God's sake,' said Sophie, 'Come on Edward,' she grabbed his hand and led him off.

'But what?'

'Urine sample.'

'Urine sample, but I don't . . .'

'And neither do I. Clarice and I are vampires too, you know, or hadn't Bella told you?'

'Well, not exactly.' Sophie shook her head and tutted several times, then perked up and said, 'So what we do is we look for a tap and fill them with water. Oh look,' she poked her head through a door, 'Here's one. Come on in.' It was a small room, and what with the two of them and Sophie's dress, somewhat intimate. And it suddenly became much more intimate when Sophie pushed Edward back against the door and threw herself against him. 'Oh Edward, my darling,' she said, in a positively over-wrought tone, 'Are you sure you want to go through with this?' Edward thought to himself: I was right, she does have a crush on me. How exciting. But how to make it clear to this lovely and dangerously alluring woman that he was committed to going forward as planned? Well, he wasn't a particularly eloquent man, so he just said it,

'I'm sorry,' she looked as if she might be about to cry, 'But I am absolutely committed to proceeding as Bella has planned.' He prepared himself for a storm of emotion, but instead she said,

'Oh Edward!' in a tone of absolute delight, and then set about kissing him, basically everywhere she could reach. Women were strange, reflected Edward. After all, this wasn't objectionable, not at all, but it wasn't quite what he'd been expecting. He just hoped she'd stop kissing him in time for him to get married to Bella. She did stop kissing him, but as it was only to look roguish and say, 'So shall we, as the English say, jump the . . .'

'No!' almost shouted Edward. She did something, involving forming her lips into a line and then pushing them outward, that he didn't know had a name of its very own, so he hurried on, 'Wouldn't it be better to get all the getting married stuff out of the way first, and then do whatever we want to?' Sophie looked a little downcast at first, but she soon brightened and said,

'Of course, my dear.' She kissed him once more, rather lingeringly, as if promising something: Edward had no idea what so wrote it off as more feminine peculiarity. 'Now let's get back to that horrible old woman. Mustn't forget the little bottles.'

When they got back it appeared that Bella and Clarice had just arrived too. For some reason, Bella was a little red-faced and Clarice appeared to be totally out of breath, judging by the way she was panting. Fortunately, the prune-faced woman had no more indignities to subject them to, so they were allowed to go into the next room, where they would meet the Notary Public who would carry out the wedding. Who was a short fat man with a most impressive moustache. There followed a lot more debating in French, in which Edward allowed himself to be pushed around according to Bella's dictates. Eventually they ended up in a line, with Clarice at one end, then Bella, then Edward, then Sophie at the other end. Edward tried to link his arm with Bella, but that provoked an almost ultrasonic squeal of French from the Notary, who came and waggled his moustache at Edward, all the while lecturing him incomprehensibly on how he had obviously done something very, very wrong. When it appeared to be over, Edward said,

'Er, sorry,' then turned to Bella and said, 'So what should I have done?'

'Oh dear, did I forget to explain it to you? It's a tradition here. I link arms with Clarice and you with Sophie.'

'Why?'

'It's tradition. Who's to say why. Just do it.' So Edward linked arms with Sophie, who gave him a little squeeze in return, and the Notary gave him a nice smile, as if to signify no hard feelings.

The ceremony began and flew around Edward's ears like so much random noise. Even he began to wonder if his schooling had been, perhaps, a little insular. But it all seemed to flow quite nicely with his contribution being limited to standing there staring into space and wondering what on Earth Bella would do to him once they were married, given what she was capable of when they weren't. In fact, there was only one point when he had to do anything. Sophie had just said, 'Oui', which Edward has a suspicion meant 'no' and then the Notary addressed something to Edward. And everything stopped as all the five other people in the room stared at Edward, who realised he had no idea what to do. The Notary repeated himself, somewhat more firmly, and Bella hissed,

'Say 'yes'.'

'Why?'

'Just do it.'

'Okay,' more loudly, 'Yes.' The Notary smiled broadly and said,

'Je vous déclare la femme et la femme et l'homme et la femme' whatever that meant. Bella uttered a loud squeal of pure pleasure, took Clarice in her arms and kissed her with such force that it was clear nothing short of an explosion was going to separate them before they were well and truly ready. Edward stood, staring in astonishment, completely at a loss, until he felt a gentle pressure from Sophie next to him, turning him to face her. He did and she put her arms around his waist. She was back to being seductive again.

'And so, Mr Cullen, what would you like to do now?'

'Do, do? I'd like to know why my wife is kissing her maid, not me.'

'I'm sorry, you're confused. Yes, Clarice is Miss Bella's maid, but she is also now her wife. They were just married. You are married to me.' With which he saw her opened mouth approaching his, and then there was blackness, and he knew nothing.

**Wait for the exciting sequel 'Edward Redeemed', coming soon to a website near you . . .**


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